The whole bit about how Santa brings presents to little boys and girls on Christmas Eve, but only if they’re good — which means no hitting! — and he comes down the chimney — which is convenient because we have a chimney — and how he eats cookies and then leaves present and presents are so fun.

Here’s the thing about two-year-olds: You really never know what they are absorbing and understanding. They might nod and totally get it; or they could nod and think “I have no Earthly idea what that broad just said.” You just don’t know.

When Ryan sees Santa (whether it be Santa in a cartoon or in a picture or in a Christmas light display), he yells “Santa Claus!” So we knew he could at least identify him. And we figured that was a good first step.

Until last week, when we Skyped with Mike’s Uncle Dick, who has a white beard and when he wears the right hat, bears a strange resemblance to Santa Claus.

And Mike and I exchanged a glance. Because. 1. How did he know what that question meant and 2. Obviously he was getting dinosaurs but 3. In the huge pile of gifts we did buy, there wasn’t one god–mn truck.

That is how I found myself in the Target toy aisle, three days before Christmas, elbowing my way to the cheapest coolest little light-up fire truck that Target Santa ever produced.

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Comment

Name *

Email *

Website

ABOUT

I'm Meghan. I grew up in Ohio, came of age in Arizona and am now raising a family in Pennsylvania. I'm a freelance writer and essayist, a stay-at-home mom to my seven-year-old son, and a foster parent. I'm told I am too organized and too sarcastic for my own good but I don't see how either is possible.